


for those lost and yet to be found

by xiari



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), author has no idea what she's doing, hellz to the yeah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiari/pseuds/xiari
Summary: post-iw; peter's stuck in the soul world along with everyone else who turned to ash, and tony's trying his best to keep his old team together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so, i started this because iw won't leave my mind. i'm not very consistent with updates, but i have a few chapters written that i'll probably upload intermittently. i don't read the comics and the movies are not that fresh in my mind, so excuse some of the errors in canon i'll inevitably make.

Tony is alone. 

 

Somehow, despite all their efforts, Thanos had prevailed. He doesn’t know whose fault it is exactly—his for getting himself punctured like a shishkebab, or Sideburn’s for letting his emotions get the better of him, or Strange’s for handing over the time stone despite his callous warnings on the donut. 

 

It’s probably all their faults. It’s civilization’s fault for overpopulating numerous planets and not allocating resources equally, socialistic as it sounds. It’s Thanos’s fault for not coming up with a single other damn idea to save the planets besides mass genocide. 

 

He sighs, looking out into the barren wasteland of Titan. The ashes, or whatever Peter had dissolved into, stain his hands, leaving him red-handed in the murder of a kid he’s supposed to be responsible for. 

 

There’s a moment of realization, when he remembers he can just give up. He’s stranded on Titan alone—well, mostly though there’s a blue faced alien with strange metal alterations standing a few feet away from him. He doesn’t have to return. 

 

He only briefly entertains this thought though, unable to shake his mind off the ashes in his hands, the ashes probably littering the streets of Earth and the entire solar system. 

 

Never has he felt the weight of the world so heavily before, not even when he held the literal fate of New York in his hands and flew it into a giant hole in the sky, and it certainly is not the time to back down now. 

 

He glances at the blue faced alien, Nebula he recalls, who must’ve flown in on a ship before attacking Thanos in a valiant yet doomed attempt to kill him. 

 

She’s staring out into the horizon, seemingly lost in thought, but she turns her head the moment he lays his eyes on her. 

 

“You can take it.”

 

Tony startles. “What?” 

 

“My ship. I can feel the gears in your head turning,” Nebula rolls her eyes, “you humans with your hero complexes.”

 

“If I recall correctly you literally just tried to kill Thanos to avenge your sister, so I wouldn’t be talking if I were you.” 

 

“Just go save your world, Stark, and I’ll go save mine.” Nebula levels him with a soul piercing stare and turns away. 

 

He has no idea what she’s thinking, because she just told him to take her one ticket off this godforsaken planet, but there’s really no time to think about the life of a single being when he has half the world counting on him. 

 

Tony doesn’t look back at Nebula as he leaves, confident he’s going to regret abandoning her if he does, and heads over to where he can barely see the hull of a ship. As he approaches it, he can see it’s been carelessly landed, the body dug deep into the sandy terrain and smoke obscuring the tail. 

 

Of course he has to repair a ship before using it. Because nothing is ever easy for him. Sighing, he climbs into a convenient hole on the side of the ship. Judging by the state of the ship, he has a ways to go before he can even start to think about world changing plans. This is the simple part though. So, he sets to work. 

 

Repairing the ship is catharsis to him. When he manages to make it look like it’s not going to explode into a million pieces the moment it leaves ground, Tony’s almost disappointed. Because now he has to think. 

 

Where is he even supposed to go? He doesn’t know who’s left. Everywhere is a cemetery of bodies, and he’s the murderer responsible for the countless tombstones; he’s not welcome anywhere. New York, though the most obvious option, is too dangerous in a way that’s not physical—he tries not to think about Pepper, or Happy, or—oh god—May. 

 

Supposedly, Thor is on mweidi or whatever the hell it was called. He doesn’t know if all-powerful stones are capable of wiping out gods, but he isn’t keen on finding out. If Thor’s gone, what chance do they have? The fact that he doesn’t even know what the place is called crosses it off the list.

 

He knows T’Challa is in Wakanda, and inside he knows this is the best option to go off of, what with the copious amounts of vibranium and therefore power to mooch off of. But, he really doesn’t want to go. While the thought of facing the Winter Soldier and Steve, because of course Steve is going to be where his other ‘40s friend is, is terrifying, he thinks the thought of them not being there is even more so. 

 

But, it’s his best hope. 

 

Tony grimly enters the coordinates of the hidden kingdom into the ship’s system and prays there’s still people there to greet him. 

 

He falls asleep on the way over and only wakes when Friday warns him they’re entering Earth’s atmosphere. Watching the scenery pass by, the overturned laundry baskets of disappeared housewives, the smoking cars smashed into walls, makes his stomach twist even more. 

 

His fingers drum against his thighs as the ship flies through the trees covering Wakanda and don’t stop until he can see a substantial amount of people standing around the entrance of the king’s hall. 

 

The ship lands in front of the crowd relatively softly, with only a few strange noises and bumps. As he re-acquaintances himself with the feeling of solid earth, Tony sits for a second, preparing himself for who he’s going to see out there—for who he’s not going to see out there. 

 

Pushing the backdoor seal button open, he climbs out, his head down and hands up in a universal sign of peace.

 

“Sorry for the shit landing, I swear I had no part in the poor construction of this ship.” 

 

He doesn’t dare look up. 

 

Someone takes a quick breath in. Footsteps approach him hesitantly, and Tony can recognize the attire anywhere. Granted, it’s covered in dust and grime and torn in places that’d make most blush, but it’s a suit Tony sees when he closes his eyes, a suit he sees in his nightmares and dreams. 

 

“Tony,” Steve breathes. And suddenly, with that one word, Tony feels the tension leave his body. 

 

Steve rushes the rest of the way over to him and envelops him in a soul-crushing hug. Tony sags against the worn down body and finally, finally breathes out. 

 

Steve doesn’t seem to want to let him go, and Tony really doesn’t want him to, but he has to see. He has to see who’s left. 

 

Gently removing himself from Steve’s arms, Tony takes a step back and raises his head. 

 

_ Shit.  _ From above, it seemed like a crowd, but Tony realizes he barely recognizes half the people standing there. They’re mostly part of the Wakandan army, with a noticeable lack of T’Challa. However, he does recognize a couple people; notably, “Nat.”

 

Natasha’s blonde now, even more beautiful and tragic than he remembered. She doesn’t seem to know how to greet him, and Tony isn’t sure either, but their differences don’t matter when the entire galaxy is falling apart, so he gives her a tight smile. 

 

Thor is there too, looking more war-hardened than Tony’d ever seen him, his hair cut to a buzz and his hammer replaced by what looks like an axe. 

 

Bruce stands next to Natasha, somehow different from when he’d seen him less than a week ago. Rhodey’s there too, his suit worse for wear but his face relieved as all hell. 

 

Strangely enough, there’s also a raccoon perched on a fallen tree, conversing with Thor. Tony doesn’t even want to know. 

 

The lack of the Winter Soldier and the Falcon explains Steve’s relief at seeing Tony more than any words could. Tony empathizes, but he’s not quite ready to forgive them. 

 

Steve opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “Are you—, is it—, no one else is with you?”

 

Tony shakes his head. 

 

“Who—”  _ is gone _ . Steve’s face yells  _ I don’t want to know  _ but Tony needs to tell them. 

 

“I was with a group that called themselves the guardians of the galaxy.” Tony notices the raccoon’s ears twitch slightly at the name. “Some human named Starlord and three other aliens. Only one survived, but she chose to remain on Titan.”

 

The raccoon, amazingly, asks, “What the fuck, you just left one of them on Titan? Who was it you piece of shit?” 

 

Tony’s unable to control his snark back, “Says a trash animal that thrives off of piles of shit. Her name’s Nebula, why do you care?”

 

At the mention of Nebula, the raccoon’s face twists. “I don’t. You mentioned three aliens, who’re the other two?” 

 

He can’t believe he’s actually having a conversation with a raccoon. “Mantis and Drax.” 

 

“What about Gamora?” 

 

Gamora. If it weren’t for that fucking name they wouldn’t be in this situation right now. The raccoon seems to take the fuming expression on his face the wrong way.

 

“Did you kill her?? I’ll fucking shank you, you sonofabitch, if you so much as tapped one of the guardians the wrong way.” 

 

Tony turns incredulous eyes onto the raccoon. “Did I kill her?  _ Did I kill her?? _ You can’t be fucking asking me that question when she nearly got us all killed. Actually, scratch that, she did get us all killed. In fact, she got half the world killed. So don’t go around accusing me of bullshit when your friends can’t even control themselves to do one goddamn job.” 

 

This makes the raccoon even angrier. “What the fuck are you even talking about. For all we know, it could be you who ruined it all.”

 

The sheer gall of this pest for accusing him of playing a hand in all these deaths, in  _ Peter’s _ death, rubs a sore spot and, without even realizing it, Tony’s taking long strides to point his finger directly in the raccoon’s face. 

 

“I don’t know what the  _ fuck _ is up with Gamora,” he punctuates with a harsh poke, “I don’t know what the  _ fuck _ your buddy’s relationship with her is,” he pokes again, “but what I do know, is your  _ fucking  _ friend Starlord can’t keep it in his pants long enough to save the  _ fucking  _ galaxy so excuse me for being  _ fucking _ pissed when some  _ fucking _ rat is accusing me of betraying the people I love.”

 

The raccoon gapes at him, and Tony can feel his own chest heaving with rage. Slowly, the raccoon backs away from him and buries its head in its paws.

 

“Shit.  _ Shit.  _ I knew Quill would fuck up, I can’t leave him alone for a second, it was a mistake going with Thor. Gamora’s gone, Groot’s gone, everyone’s gone. Why am I still here?” 

 

Half of the raccoon’s muttering doesn’t make sense to Tony, but he does catch the bitter tone of being the one left behind and, despite the argument still hanging over their heads, can relate. 

 

He scans over the curled in body of the raccoon and makes a decision. 

 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. If we want to stand a chance against Thanos, we need to be as close as possible.” Tony holds out his hand for the raccoon to shake. 

 

The raccoon snorts and makes no motion to shake his hand, but after a few seconds replies, “Whatever.” 

 

Tony, being Tony, recognizes that as a sign of truce. 

 

“Glad this whole conversation happened, but we need an exact account of who’s left,” Thor finally speaks up. 

 

There’s some kind of barely-suppressed fury that Tony’s never seen in Thor’s eyes before, and he really doesn’t know how to deal with that.

 

“I was with this magician, not even the most ridiculous thing here which is ridiculous in and of itself. His name was—is—Doctor Strange.” 

 

Thor’s eyes light up in recognition. How the hell does everyone know everyone else? 

 

“He told me some pretty damning news, actually. Apparently, out of fourteen million six hundred and five outcomes of our future, only one leads to our success. So, take what you want with that.” 

 

Steve shakes his head. “We can’t focus on superstitions, we need to think about what we’re going to do now.” 

 

“They’re not superstitions, he literally saw into the future, we can’t just ignore our literal fates,” Tony argues. 

 

“We’ll waste time thinking about it, no matter if it’s true or not,” Steve says firmly.

 

Tony purses his lips, but there’s some truth to Steve’s argument. So, he continues on to what he was avoiding, what he dreaded the most. “Peter…Peter was also there. He just—he just died in my arms, dissolving into nothing. I was supposed to be responsible for him.” 

 

He can’t imagine what it must’ve felt like to Peter, with his heightened senses. His last words to Tony,  _ I’m sorry _ , were just so Peter. Of course he had to apologize for something out of his control. Why did the stone have to take the only pure thing left in the entire galaxy?

 

“Sorry, who?” Steve asks, his face scrunched up in confusion. 

 

Tony lets out a shaky laugh, “Shit, I forgot none of you actually know him. You know him as Spider-Man. He was with us at Leipzig; he stole your shield.” 

 

Secret identities be damned when the world is falling apart. 

 

Steve’s face lights up in recognition, while Natasha looks grim. 

 

“He’s more Spider-kid if we’re being completely honest. He’s only sixteen, and I got him caught up in this mess,” Tony admits. He wants to be reprimanded, he wants to feel justified in his misery. 

 

But, no one says anything. Only Steve gives him the  _ I’m disappointed, but we’ll talk later look,  _ and Natasha looks lost in thought. The rest look too distracted to even take in his words. In fact, Tony’s not even sure they’ve been listening to him the entire time. 

 

“So what are we supposed to do now?” Bruce asks. 

 

Tony looks over the remaining people. Vision is unsurprisingly gone, along with Wanda, two of the most powerful Avengers. Bruce looks defeated already. Thor’s rage seems to be bubbling up, ready to burst at any second. Natasha’s still zoned out. There’s no way he’s risking Rhodey again. He doesn’t even know the raccoon’s name, or even what he can do. 

 

“What’s your name anyway?” Tony turns toward the raccoon. 

 

It turns its nose up at him and eyes him with disdain, but responds, “Rocket.”

 

“Nice name.”

 

“Sure it is,” Rocket scoffs. 

 

God, the raccoon has more issues than he does. 

 

“Got any superpowers that’re of any use?” Tony questions. 

 

“Besides the power to piss people off?” Tony adds, as Rocket opens his mouth to respond. 

 

Rocket rolls his eyes. “Real original. I’m the best engineer in the galaxy, I can climb walls, do all the stealth and tactical shit. Honestly, I’m a catch.”

 

“Sure you are,” Tony mimics. “I’ll have you know that I’m the best engineer in the galaxy. See this suit here? I built it. See that ship behind me? I fixed it.”

 

“A shit job if you ask me,” Rocket mutters. 

 

Tony refuses to acknowledge that comment and turns toward Bruce. 

 

“Has, you know,” he gestures at Bruce’s general vicinity, “had the opportunity to fight Thanos? Can he take him?” 

 

Bruce turns wide eyes on Tony and impossibly seems to shrink even more. “Yeah he fought him. And failed, big time. Thanos is undefeatable, Tony, you saw my state when we first met up. I only survived because Thor’s friend got me out of there.”

 

Tony pinches his nose bridge, “Okay, we’re not totally fucked yet. How about you, Thor? Got any tricks up your sleeve, oh mighty god?

 

Thor glances down at him, his expression stormy but otherwise unreadable, “Do not take that tone with me, Stark. I have Stormbreaker.” 

 

“I’m sorry, what did you say? Because I hope you didn’t just tell me our hopes are riding on a bad 2006 MySpace username.” 

 

Thor seems to glower at him even more. Tony’s been told he has that kind of an effect on people. “Stormbreaker is the strongest weapon in this galaxy, forged from Uru in the heart of a dying star on Nidavellir.” 

 

“I’ll pretend that made any sense to me,” Tony says. “If it’s so powerful, why is Thanos still alive? I mean, I’m assuming you got to him since you’re here.” 

 

“I managed to impale him in the stomach, but he was still functioning enough to use the stones. He got away, but he is badly injured. I am unsure of how well the stones can heal him.” 

 

“Great, just great. So we’re dealing with a guy who can erase half the world in a blink of an eye, even with ‘the strongest weapon in this galaxy’ stuck in his stomach. Perfect.” Tony can’t have a panic attack right now, he can’t. 

 

So he pushes forward. One step at a time, he reminds himself. 

 

“We’re going to need to do a lot of planning, and I’m not sure if we’ll be able to make it through alive, but we have to try for those we lost,” he says. 

 

He scans the faces of those who’ve lost so much, of those who have nothing left to lose. 

 

“We’ll get them back, no matter what it takes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how to write the tony and steve reunion, i'm sorry if it’s kinda lackluster idk i feel like they’re mature enough to set aside their differences for now to save the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter’s not sure where he is. It’s dark, almost too dark, and his senses seem dulled or just absent completely. 

 

He walks forward and feels the very air around him shift as if it's alive.

 

“Creepy,” someone says.

 

Peter opens his mouth to agree, then stumbles back, realizing there’s another person with him. 

 

“Hello? Who’s there? I’m armed!” Peter brandishes his web shooters out, though he knows it’s useless because they were crushed in the fight. 

 

A figure steps into his vision, the darkness somehow receding, shining a dim light on the figure’s face. 

 

“Hey, whoa kid. Don’t shoot.” It’s the guy from Titan, whatshisname—

 

“—Mr. Starlord! Oh my god, thank god, I thought I was all alone here, doomed to just walk around this place for eternity like limbo from that old movie Inception.”

 

Starlord’s face scrunches up in confusion, “Hey there, slow down a bit. I get you’re really into the references thing, but the ‘70s are kinda my thing so anything else just flies by me.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Starlord. I’ll try to tone it down?” Peter apologizes.

 

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll probably do the same anyway. And, call me Peter, Peter Quill.” 

 

Peter’s face lights up immediately, “No freakin’ way, your name is Peter too?”

 

Quill’s face breaks out in a grin, “Don’t tell me, your name is Peter?” 

 

Peter nods frantically, “Yeah, I’m Peter Parker. Holy shit—I mean shoot—that’s awesome, I have the same name as a superhero. Wait ‘til I tell Ned—”

 

He abruptly breaks off, realizing the situation they’re in. 

 

Quill’s grin slides a bit, “Hey, kid—Peter—we’re gonna be fine. I’ll get us out of here in no time, then you can tell the whole world you have the same name as a superhero.” 

 

“You promise?” Peter asks, his wide eyes drilling into Quill’s soul. 

 

“Promise,” he responds, without a single pause. 

 

“Okay,” Peter says, eyeing Quill.

 

Quill relaxes, because although he doesn’t believe his words, he’s not going to crush the hopes of this kid, not when he has so much to live for. 

 

“So,  _ Peter _ ,” Quill stresses, nudging the kid, “How's it like living with the best name in the galaxy?”

 

Peter hesitates for a second, “Well, I mean three other kids in my grade have the same name, but it’s still pretty special.” 

 

“Of course it is, it’s gotta be when  _ two  _ superheroes share it.”

 

Peter’s eyes widen at his inclusion in the term superheroes, and he blushes. 

 

“So, you a newbie in the business?” Quill determines, examining the kid’s red cheeks. 

 

“Mr. Stark told me I’m an Avenger before we crashed onto Titan. I mean, he offered the position before, but I refused because I thought it was a test. I never really thought—I never believed he actually thought I was capable of being an Avenger,” Peter stutters.

 

Quill makes sure to look the kid directly in the eyes, “You did a hell of a job on Titan. I mean, you definitely handled it better than me, and I’ve been doing this for years now. So, I’d say you’re one-hundred percent capable of being an Avenger, whatever that means.” 

 

The sentiment is somewhat lost in that last comment, but Peter’s thankful nonetheless. “You really think so?”

 

“Hell yeah I do,  _ Peter, _ ” Quill smirks. 

 

They stand smiling at each other for a second in silence, until Peter ducks his head shyly.

 

“So, what are we gonna do now, Mr. Quill?”

 

“Peter’s fine. Actually, wait, no that’s too confusing. I guess Mr. Quill’s fine then. It sounds so professional, damn.”

 

Peter’s looking at him with a bashful smile.

 

Quill clears his throat, “First, we’re gonna look for other people. If you’re here, that means wherever we are is probably shared by everyone else who vanished.” 

 

Peter nods and follows Quill as he begins to walk. 

 

“I’d offer to help track people, but my spidey senses are kinda gone right now,” Peter says.

 

“Spidey senses?” Quill questions.

 

“Yeah, they’re kinda like a spider’s intuition. I can just feel when something’s wrong and react pretty quickly.”

 

“Did you feel anything when we began disappearing?”

 

Quill regrets asking, judging by the look on Peter’s face. 

 

“Sorry, you don’t need to respond, I just open my big mouth too much sometimes,” Quill tries to rectify. 

 

Peter shakes his head slowly, “No, it’s fine.” But he doesn’t offer anything else besides that.

 

They continue to walk, with Quill glancing at Peter’s face periodically. 

 

“So, what do you do exactly?” Peter questions. 

 

Quill jumps at the opportunity to fill the strange silence, “I’m part of the guardians of the galaxy. We’re kinda like,” he tries to think of a Terran equivalent, “a police force? We just patrol the galaxy, make sure shit doesn’t hit the fan, that kinda stuff. It’s pretty awesome.”  

 

Peter nods at the nonsensical explanation, not exactly as enthused as Quill hoped he’d be, and they fall back into silence. 

 

“So, what do you do?” Quill asks. 

 

“Um, well before I became an Avenger, I just did some small stuff. I tried to catch thieves and some petty criminals, nothing major. Mr. Stark didn’t really want me to handle any of the really bad guys, said it was too dangerous for someone my age.”

 

“What changed his mind? ‘Cause you’re an Avenger now.” Quill has to question the sanity of this Mr. Stark figure. A child with so much ahead of him doesn’t have any real reason for being involved in all of this. 

 

Peter shrugs, “I’m persistent, I guess. I want to protect people, and if getting involved in this does the job, then I’m fine with that.”

 

Quill marvels at the bravery of the kid. Though he doesn’t really remember his childhood all that well, with most of his memories being of Yondu and doing essentially everything against what the kid in front of him stands for, he remembers not really caring for anyone but himself. 

 

Not much has changed, he reminds himself. If it weren’t for his selfishness, he probably wouldn’t even be here right now. Peter would probably be back home, worrying about petty criminals and school and hanging out with Ned. 

 

“You know—I’m sorry for what I did back there.”

 

Peter looks at him, his eyebrows slanted in confusion. 

 

“Sometimes, I just act too rashly. I went against the plan. If it weren’t for me, we’d probably have Thanos’s gauntlet and half the population still kicking it out there.”

 

Peter gives him a sad look, one that shouldn’t be on the face of someone that young. “I don’t blame you.”

 

“Honestly,” he insists, when Quill gives him a look. “Really, I don’t. I have no idea what I would’ve done if I were in your place and Aunt May was dead.”

 

Aunt, so no parents then, or at least they’re out of the picture. 

 

“She’s—she’s all I have left. If I lost her, I don’t know what I’d do,” Peter continues, his face starting to blotch up.

 

Quill places his hand on Peter’s shoulder and they stop walking. “Hey. Peter, you’re the bravest person I know. And I’m the most resilient person I know. With the both of us together, we’re definitely gonna make it through and get you back to your aunt, okay?” 

 

Peter sniffles, his face splotched with embarrassment, and nods slightly. 

 

They continue walking, until Peter stops suddenly. 

 

“Uh, Mr. Quill, do you hear that?” Peter tilts his head, listening to something Quill can’t hear. 

 

“No, but stay behind me.” 

 

Peter jogs ahead of him and Quill follows, cursing. What’s with people not following his directions these days?

 

As he tries to keep up with Peter’s disappearing form, he begins to hear it: a high-pitched male voice muttering an abnormal amount of expletives to himself. 

 

“What is this, Satan’s fucking asshole? I know I’m not fucking Captain America—I wish, though, in both ways—but really? I’m not even part of this fucking universe.” 

 

He doesn’t recognize the voice, but that’s not what worries him the most. What worries him the most is the sound of metal against metal, the sound of someone aggressively sharpening weapons. 

 

Peter’s too far ahead to be seen in the darkness, and Quill opens his mouth to shout at Peter to just  _ wait up, you’re unbelievably fast _ , but his words die in his mouth as he hears a familiar yell. 

 

Quill strains his muscles to a spring until he can see Peter again, and when he finally can, his stomach drops. 

 

There’s a masked man pushing Peter against his body, holding two long blades crossed over Peter’s throat. 

 

Oddly enough, the captor seems excited, his blades moving dangerously along with his wide motions. 

 

He’s speaking too quickly to really make out anything, but Quill doesn’t really care. All he knows is Peter’s in danger, the  _ kid  _ is in danger, and nothing is going to harm him, not on his watch. 

 

“Hey asshole, mind letting the kid go?” he says, raising his quad blaster.

 

The captor turns his face, letting Quill see his mask. It’s strange, the material seems to mold against his face, allowing his expressions to clearly emote from it. 

 

And right now, he’s definitely angry. The white pupils are narrowed, and he’s stopped his wild gesturing.

 

“Well, who do we have here? I just caught Spidey trying to get a jump on me—sorry, not into underage boys, maybe wait a few years—and now the fat Chris too? I thought Christmas already passed, I got my coal from Santa already.” 

 

Quill gets a good aim at the guy while he’s in the middle of his speech and fires as he finishes talking, the shot landing true. However, to his dismay, the captor barely seems to feel it. 

 

“Uh oh, bad boy. You really want to shoot at me when I have Spidey?” 

 

At that moment, Peter seems to decide that’s his cue to move. Quill watches in horror as he grows limp against his captor, then as the blades in front loosen in surprise, he elbows his captor hard in the gut and slips out, pointing his web shooters at his captor. 

 

“Who the fu—frick—are you?” Peter stammers. 

 

Quill recovers from his shock before the other guy can get ahold of the situation and pulls Peter behind him. He aims his blaster at the guy, this time setting it out of stun. 

 

“You better answer, or you’ll end up deader than we are now,” Quill threatens, nodding at his blaster.

 

The guy just gasps, and at first Quill thinks Peter elbowed him a bit too hard, but then he raises his head and Quill realizes he’s laughing. 

 

“You two are so precious,” he manages to get out between his gasps. Then, in a movement too quick for Quill or even Peter to react to, he pulls his two blades out and presses the tips against their throats. 

 

“Sorry, where’re my manners? My name’s Deadpool, or Wade Wilson, whatever gets your panties wet. Usually I meet Death when I die, but fuck if anyone’s read the comics these days. This is just lazy writing, really.” 

 

Peter squirms against the blade, but Quill holds him down as Deadpool presses it further into his throat, causing blood to trickle down onto the kid’s red suit.

 

“Sorry baby boy, safety first. Also, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This is katana,” he gestures to the blade, “it traps the souls of its victims.” 

 

Peter’s eyes widen, “Really?” 

 

Deadpool laughs, “Yeah, unbelievable right? I have no clue how that got past the DC editors.” 

 

Quill frowns. “Never heard of you.” 

 

The masked face turns toward him, “And who’re you supposed to be, an off-brand Avenger?” 

 

Quill opens his mouth to respond, but Peter interrupts him, “You know the Avengers?” 

 

“Who doesn’t?” Deadpool responds. 

 

Peter glances at Quill who shrugs. 

 

“Does that mean you’re from Earth?” Peter asks. 

 

Deadpool tilts his head. “That big rotating ball of shit and piss? Yeah, I guess so, baby boy.” 

 

“And you know who I am!” Peter just seems to realize. 

 

“How could I forget that ass?” Deadpool winks.

 

Quill coughs. He’s losing control of this situation faster than Rocket can ever hope to screw over the guardians. 

 

“I’ll have you know, I’m a guardian of the galaxy. We’re, like, the police of space,” he announces.

 

“Racist, aggressive, and trigger-happy? Yikes Spidey, that’s some company you’ve found,” Deadpool grimaces, “Want me to get rid of him?” His eyes narrow as he presses his blade into Quill’s throat, hard enough for him to begin to choke. 

 

“No!” Peter lunges forward, causing Deadpool to drop his blade in an effort to not skewer the kid. This gives Quill an opportunity to raise his blaster directly at a distracted Deadpool and shoot, this time aiming to kill. The shot hits home, and Deadpool staggers back, his eyes widening as he takes in the large hole where his heart used to be. 

 

“Oh you motherfucker,” he says and then collapses on the ground. 

 

It’s silent, and then Peter starts to tremble.

 

“Ohh my god. Ohhhhh my god. You killed him. He’s dead. Oh my god.” Peter stumbles back, falling on his ass in an attempt to get away from the pool of blood spreading around Deadpool’s dead body. 

 

Quill drops his blaster. “Shit, we’re actually alive,” he looks at Deadpool’s bloody body, “We’re actually alive!”

 

“And he’s dead! Mr. Quill, what’re we gonna do, oh my god,” Peter shakily stands and slowly inches toward the sprawled figure, avoiding the blood reaching out to him. 

 

“Peter, this is proof that we have a chance. If people can die here, that means this isn’t the afterlife,” Quill says excitedly. 

 

Peter shakes his head slowly, “I thought you told me we were fine. I thought you believed we were alive from the very beginning. You didn’t have to kill someone to prove that.”

 

Quill feels shit about disappointing Peter, but he can’t clamp down his excitement. All this time, he thought he was only meant to act out this role to protect Peter from the harsh reality of death. But this, this is hope. For the first time, he believes they actually have a chance. 

 

As for Deadpool, Quill can’t exactly muster up sympathy for a guy who held them at blade point, but he does feel bad about shooting before really thinking about the consequences. He really doesn’t learn, does he. 

 

“Uh, Mr. Quill?” Peter’s wavering voice breaks him out of thought.

 

Quill steels himself, and he begins to kneel down to apologize to the kid, but then he stops in his tracks when he sees what’s happening. 

 

The hole he shot through Deadpool’s body is closing, as if someone were reversing time and, despite himself, Quill feels a wave of disappointment. So they can’t die here. He was right from the beginning, they’re dead, or at least unable to get back to reality. 

 

“What’s happening?” Peter’s eyes are wide as they watch Deadpool’s body slowly repair itself. 

 

Quill doesn’t respond, too busy wallowing in the whiplash of hope and then extinguished hope he just experienced. His eyes follow the slow mending until the hole is gone, leaving a tear in the suit, the only evidence it was ever there. Deadpool’s body under the tear is a mess, scarred in a way Quill knows wasn’t the job of his blaster. 

 

“Why’s he so sca—” Peter starts, but is interrupted by a loud gasp from Deadpool. 

 

They scramble backwards as Deadpool’s eyes shoot open and he sits up, looking at them for a second as if he doesn’t recognize them. Then, in a move all-too familiar to Quill at this point, he grabs his blades and this time, aims both of them at Quill, one at his throat and one at his heart. 

 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fucking rip you apart now,” he growls, his playful demeanor from before completely gone. 

 

Peter steps forward, “Um, Mr. Deadpool, sir.”

 

“Sorry, not now baby boy.” Deadpool’s eyes don’t leave Quill. 

 

“We can’t die here, so stab me all you want, it won’t make a difference,” Quill says.

 

Peter begins to stammer out protests, but stops when Deadpool begins to laugh. “You think I’m still alive because we’re dead? That’s a new one, fuck that’s hilarious.”

 

Quill raises his head indignantly, as much as the blade to his neck allows him to. “Then how do you explain  _ that _ ,” he points at Deadpool’s exposed body.

 

“ _ That  _ is the result of hell, a different one than the one you think we’re in now, dick. I’m a mutant, I can’t die, yada yada yada, who fucking cares, you kill me, you die.” Deadpool presses his blades into Quill’s neck and heart slowly, as if he’s savoring the moment. 

 

“Wait, stop!” 

 

Deadpool halts and turns toward Peter, who’s aiming the blaster Quill had left on the ground at Deadpool.

 

But, instead of backing away, Deadpool continues to press the blades into Quill, causing his vision to slowly fade. “Sorry baby boy, turn away for me, would ya? A merc’s gotta do what a merc’s gotta do.”

 

“I’m not afraid to shoot,” Peter says, his voice shaky but determined. 

 

Quill can’t believe the nerve of the kid, and seemingly neither can Deadpool because the blades stop again and loosen against his throat, giving him barely enough space to breathe. 

 

“You don’t wanna do that, baby boy, not here, not for him, not ever if possible,” Deadpool says solemnly. 

 

“Then give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” Peter mimics from before, his eyes narrowed but sweat dripping against his face.

 

Deadpool studies Peter for a while, neither of them relenting, and then sighs and releases Quill, shoving him harder than necessary toward Peter. 

 

“You’re lucky he’s here, fucker. You’d be a pretty picture of limbs and guts otherwise.” Deadpool sheathes his blades and then lowers his head to study the hole in his costume.

 

“God, my nips are showing.” Deadpool points a blade accusingly at Quill. “You owe me some leather when we get out of here,” he complains, as if he hadn’t threatened to skewer Quill only seconds ago. 

 

What is even going on anymore. If he hadn’t believed this was reality before, this insanity is proof it isn’t. He doesn’t know how to respond to the insanity in front of him. The only thing he can think of to say to his would-be murderer is, “My name’s Peter Quill.”

 

Deadpool glances at him, then looks back down at the hole. “Don’t give a shit.” 

 

Peter shifts nervously next to Quill. “I’m Peter Parker, in case you, you know, give a shi—care.”

 

Deadpool glances up, but this time focuses all his attention on Peter. Oh no, Quill doesn’t want that to happen. 

 

But, somehow through his mask, Deadpool seems to soften. “Hey there, Petey, can I call you that?” Peter nods rapidly. “You already know who I am, but just know I’m gonna do everything I can to get us out of this shithole, alright?” Peter nods rapidly again. 

 

Deadpool claps his hands together, startling both Peters. “Awesome-balls. Let’s get this fucking party started then!” 

 

Quill seriously cannot keep up with this. “Hold on a second, who said you’re going with us?” 

 

Deadpool laughs, “I’m not going with you, you’re coming with me. Face it, you need me to help people not get fucked by the tension between you two. You’re coming—I wish, under different circumstances—so be grateful, dickbag.”

 

Quill smiles sarcastically at him, “In your dreams, used condom.”

 

Peter looks between the two eyeing at each other. “Well, at least we found another person.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i made starlord a total dickhead here, i swear i love him a lot. also, obligatory deadpool death to explain deadpool abilities. also, consistent pov who? idk her. also, (promise this is the last one) i have no idea how to write deadpool.


	3. Chapter 3

They have no plan. 

 

Tony runs his hand through his hair for the hundredth time, his mind racing as he watches the group in front of him—the  _ Avengers _ in a different circumstance, in a different time—argue about their best course of action. 

 

“Like I said already, we need to go to Thanos. He is weak, just one more strike of Stormbreaker will finish him,” Thor insists. 

 

“But we don’t know if that’ll bring everyone back,” Steve counters, “that’s what’s most important to us at the moment.”

 

“With Thanos gone, the gauntlet is ours to study. If we only focus on those lost, we will only give him more time to recover and come back even stronger than before,” Thor growls.

 

Steve rubs his temples, “He already accomplished his goal, I don’t think he’s really thinking about a comeback.”

 

“More the reason to take him by surprise.”

 

“Okay, how about we actually think about a way to do any of this. We’ve been talking about the course, but we haven’t talked about the action. Either way, facing Thanos or getting our people back, we can’t go in blind,” Bruce says. 

 

Thank god, a voice of reason amongst these alpha males.

 

“Bruce is right,” Tony speaks up, the first time since they sat down in Wakanda’s throne room an hour ago, “we need a plan, a step by step plan to make sure nothing goes wrong like before.”

 

“Like before? Oh right, like when you fucked up on Titan and let Thanos get away with the time stone. Great advice coming from you, genius,” Rocket mutters.

 

Tony glares at the pest, “We’ve already established it was your friend’s fault, can we just move on? Also, didn’t we just agree on a truce?” 

 

“I never agreed to anything.” 

 

“Unbelievable.”

 

“Children, please,” Natasha rolls her eyes, “I for one think we’re forgetting something very important. We have Thor’s axe thing, whatever it’s called—”

 

“Stormbreaker,” Thor huffs.

 

Tony smirks. 

 

“—Stormbreaker,” Natasha glares at Tony, daring him to say something, “but a weapon’s only as good as its wielder. We don’t have enough people. I say we gather a team first, a team that can stand up against Thanos,  _ if, _ ” she holds up a hand to Steve, who’s ready to protest, “we choose to go to him first, or when we inevitably have to face him.”

 

Tony leans back, “She’s got a point.”

 

“Sure, but who else can we call? Everyone strong enough to stand up against Thanos is in this room,” Steve points out. 

 

“What about that guy who did that trick with Legolas?” Tony remembers.

 

Steve frowns, “Ant-Man? He’s with his family, I don’t know if he should be involved in this.” 

 

“For all we know, his family’s gone and he’s trying to find a way to get them back himself,” Tony argues. 

 

“Callous, but true,” Bruce says. 

 

“Is this…Ant-Man…worth wasting the time to fly to America?” Thor questions. 

 

“It’s better than wasting time sitting around here arguing. We may also find Clint along the way,” Natasha responds, already standing and walking toward the exit. “I’ll prepare the ship, decide whether you want to come or not, this might be the last time we’re all together.” 

 

Tony stands, “We’re all going, together. None of this fugitive bullshit anymore. We need each other, and fuck Ross if he comes after us now.” 

 

Steve remains seated, but his head is tilted in thought. “You’re willing to sacrifice everything you fought for?” 

 

“Not exactly, but I’ll be damned if it stands in the way of bringing everyone back.”

 

Steve nods, then stands. Bruce follows, as does Rhodey. 

 

Thor appears lost in thought. 

 

“Thor, I know you’ve lost a lot, but a team’s better than one person. You want revenge, I get it, so does everyone else in this room, but you won’t get it if you go on a suicide mission,” Tony says. As much as he says Thor needs them, they also need Thor. 

 

Thor’s head sags. “He killed Loki, there’s no bringing him back. I have nothing left to lose, perhaps I will be reunited with my family once I kill Thanos.”

 

“ _ If  _ you kill Thanos,” Bruce intervenes, much to Tony’s surprise. He prepares himself for the inevitable roar of thunder and strike of lightning, but surprisingly, there is none. 

 

Bruce has walked over to Thor and has his hand on his shoulder. “Thor, we can’t do this without you. I know you feel like you have nothing to live for, but please, we need you.” 

 

Amazingly, Bruce’s presence seems to calm Thor down—what happened when they were gone, Tony wonders—and Thor nods, standing to join the rest of the old Avengers. 

 

Tony glances at Rocket, who looks uncomfortable staring at the solidarity happening before his eyes. Before he can regret it, Tony waves him over with a roll of his eyes, “We need you, ‘best engineer in the galaxy,’ so get your trashy ass over here.” 

 

Rocket sneers at him, “I hear the air quotes and I don’t appreciate them, but I guess I’ll grace you hopeless morons with my presence.” His hands, which were grasping some kind of bark Tony hadn’t noticed until now, loosen and his whiskers become less taut. 

 

All that’s left is over half the people standing in the room. Tony raises an inquiring eye at who’s undoubtedly their leader.

 

Okoye, who’d been standing silently in the back, shakes her head, “I will stay here, along with the rest of the Wakandan army. Although our king has fallen, our duty is to protect Wakanda. I hope you understand.” 

 

Tony nods, it’s a huge loss for their team, but they’ll have to make do like they always have. 

 

He turns toward the group huddled at the doorway, and smiles a genuine, eye-crinkling smile. “It’s just like the old days.” 

 

Steve, as dirt-matted and despair-riddled as he is, manages a smile back, “I missed this.”

 

They stand there, not quite as friends, not quite as enemies, until Natasha comes and tells them the ship is ready. 

 

“Well, that’s the cue. Goodbye Wakanda, goodbye relative safety, hello feelings of overwhelming helplessness,” Bruce mutters, the first to follow Natasha onto the ship. 

 

Tony shakes his head, grinning knowingly at Steve, and together, they walk on, forging a new path towards understanding and ultimately, forgiveness. 

 

As the rest of the crew scrambles on reluctantly, Tony turns to Natasha, who’s getting Rocket, who she chose as co-pilot despite all of Tony’s warnings, familiarized with the ship’s controls. 

 

“So, basically this is the autopilot button, which means we don’t really have to fly the ship—”

 

“I know what autopilot means, woman,” Rocket says. 

 

As Natasha turns to glare at Rocket, Tony addresses her, “Sorry to interrupt this incredible bonding session, but can I speak to you for a second, Nat?” 

 

Natasha gives Rocket one last glare, one that’d make even the strongest of men wince—Tony gleefully notices Rocket’s whiskers tremble—and nods. 

 

He leads them over to a quiet corner of the ship and motions for her to sit down. 

 

“So, I know we kinda glossed over the whole betrayal thing,” Tony starts, raising his hand when Natasha tries to speak, “but I want to really make sure there’s no bad blood before we go out there, because we can’t afford any slip ups.” 

 

Natasha’s dying to say something, but Tony needs to let everything out first. 

 

“I understand why you went with Steve. I’m not going to say the Accords were a mistake, I believed they were for the best of us, and I still think I do, but I let my emotions get the best of me when fighting Steve. It wasn’t just about the Accords, it became personal, and I should’ve known to separate the two. I’m glad that he had someone to depend on, someone to help him through the personal, so he didn’t become like me.” 

 

Natasha’s silent, and Tony’s worried she’s just going to walk away from him like she had before, but she leans in and envelops him in a hug. 

 

“I’m sorry, Tony. I know it was hard to learn about your parents’ deaths, especially at the hands of someone so close to your most trusted friend. And it didn’t help when another friend left you. It’s just,” she struggles to find the right words to explain her actions, “I knew Steve needed the help. I mean, you had the whole government on your side, while he became a fugitive. He wouldn’t have survived out there without me, and you know that. So you let me go.”

 

Tony can’t explain to her the pain he went through, having no one supporting him but everyone counting on him: Rhodey, Peter, Ross, the world. But, he willingly put himself through it, and for what exactly? Countless meetings with faceless government agents? Mutants angry with the provisions of the Accords? He doesn’t know anymore. 

 

Gently, he pulls out of Natasha’s grasp and offers her a weak smile, “So, truce?” 

 

She smiles, so beautiful and so sad, “Truce.”

 

Tony relaxes. “You better not break it like that trash panda,” he says jokingly, though there’s a hint of uncertainty and self-consciousness in his voice. 

 

Natasha, bless her, looks him directly in the eyes, “I promise, Tony.” 

 

Tony nods and motions for her to stand with him, and they head back to the cockpit. 

 

Rocket’s there still, twirling around in his chair, staring intently at the piece of bark in his hands. 

 

“What is that, anyway?” Tony motions at the bark as they’re standing a few feet away from the cockpit. 

 

“I can hear you, dumbass,” Rocket sneers. 

 

“Wasn’t asking you, ‘best engineer in the galaxy.’”

 

“I hate the quotations in your voice,” Rocket mutters, as Natasha takes a seat next to him. 

 

She turns a questioning gaze on Rocket, who shrugs, so she replies to Tony, “It’s part of his friend, Groot, a tree.” 

 

Tony stares at her, then at Rocket. “Your friend is a tree? That’s just sad man.”

 

“A sentient tree,” Natasha corrects, “though the only thing it knew how to say was ‘I am Groot.’”

 

“Sorry your puny brain can’t comprehend more than one language at a time,” Rocket says.

 

“Oh you’re criticizing the wrong person when it comes to languages, Nat here knows more than 50 dialects,” Tony warns.

 

Rocket scoffs, “That’s nothing, there’re more than 100,000 in the galaxy that I know of, what she knows doesn’t even scrape the bottom of the barrel.”

 

Tony leans back on his heels and whistles. “Well, you should’ve opened with that in introductions. Maybe you are worth more than trash after all.” 

 

Rocket bares his teeth at him, but Tony just winks and waves, “I’ll leave you two to bond over the amount of people you torture every day or your languages or whatever. Point is, I don’t care. Just make sure this ship leaves Wakanda and arrives in New York without any trouble and I’ll be happy.” 

 

He leaves, but not before he misses Rocket’s last remark, “As if I’m trying to please you.”

 

It shouldn’t take them more than three hours to arrive in New York, so Tony finds a cot to take a quick nap on before they arrive. He hasn’t slept in ages, so though his nights are usually plagued with nightmares or insomnia, he knocks out the moment he hits the cot and doesn’t wake until Nat’s tapping his shoulder softly. She’s the only one brave and knowledgeable enough to know how to wake him.

 

He still startles, but no limbs go flying and no bodies are bruised, so that counts for something. He nods gratefully at her and stretches out his limbs, feeling somehow more exhausted than before. 

 

“Welcome back to New York, Cap,” he tells Steve, who’s sitting on one of the designated flight seats. 

 

“Home sweet home, I guess,”  Steve says, as they both look out the window and examine the crumbled buildings and deserted streets of what used to be Manhattan. 

 

“There’s nothing like a good old alien attack to remind you you’re back in New York,” Tony sighs. 

 

“So, where is Ant-Man anyway?” Bruce questions from his seat next to Steve. The Hulk surprisingly stayed calm the entire ride over, much to everyone’s relief. 

 

Steve takes out his flip-phone, to which Tony internally cringes and externally does the Catholic cross. 

 

“Calm down, drama queen,” Rhodey smirks. 

 

“That’s the literal devil right there,” Tony accuses.

 

Steve just rolls his eyes and dials a number. The ship is silent, save for the dial tone, until a voice picks up. 

 

“Captain America?” the person, presumably Ant-Man wonders. 

 

“Yes, this is Scott Lang I hope?” 

 

“Yeah, holy shit!” Scott suddenly exclaims, causing everyone listening in to jump a little, “I thought you were dead, man. The news, just seeing the death count rise every day, I dunno, it just takes something outta you.” 

 

The guy continues to ramble, long enough for Tony to begin to question why they flew over here for him in the first place. He glances around the ship; everyone looks bored to death listening to the phone call, save for one person. 

 

Thor looks miserable, standing alone in the corner of the ship. It’s so different from the jubilant, ignorant, almost innocent god Tony had known before that he doesn’t want to approach him. But he reminds himself, they’re a team, and they have to work together as a team for whatever plan they manage to agree on to work. 

 

So, ignoring Scott’s incessant chatter, he stands and walks over to Thor’s gloomy corner, preparing himself for the wave of depression and anger the god is just radiating. 

 

“Hey, Thor.” Thor turns his stormy eyes on him. 

 

Why is he the designated mediator? Who thought this was a good idea? Oh, right, he brought this onto himself, like he does with everything else in his goddamn life. 

 

“Look, I know you didn’t really want to come along with us, but just know I’m really grateful you decided to come.”

 

Thor grunts in acknowledgement. 

 

“So what’s with you and Bruce?” Tony asks, trying to keep the god’s thoughts from wandering into dark territories.

 

Thor considers him for a moment, then replies, “You do not have to appease me, Stark. I will be fine by my own.” 

 

“Yeah, you see, about that. ‘By my own’ doesn’t exactly scream teamwork, and contrary to popular belief, I do actually care about other people sometimes. So, wanna tell me why you’re suddenly all buddy-buddy with Bruce now?” 

 

There’s a moment of silence, when Tony starts to think Thor just blocked him out completely, but then Thor responds, “I was thrown out of the bifrost by my sister Hela and wound up on Sakaar. A Valkyrie captured me and I fought the Hulk in a stadium for entertainment. We managed to escape and now I am here.” 

 

Tony strongly suspects Thor left out large, and he means large, chunks of that story, but he’s not going to push. 

 

“Okaaay, that’s cool,” he stalls, not wanting them to fall back into silence. 

 

Thankfully, Scott’s finally done with his tirade, and Steve motions Tony over to map out Scott’s whereabouts. 

 

Tony frowns when he has the coded coordinates down. “According to this, he should actually be really close to us.” 

 

“Isn’t that good?” Steve questions, examining his frown. 

 

“All the buildings here were hit the hardest by the attack. I’m not sure why Scott stayed around.” 

 

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to find out,” Steve stands, and the rest follow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no clue where ant man actually lives, it might be california bc apparently the prison he was in was in cali idk but for the sake of this, he lives in nyc lol sorry.


End file.
